Pirates of the Carribean 25: Points of Departure
by snickerdoodlez
Summary: While Elizabeth and Will are entitled to a confused lovelife, Maccus, one of Davy's very own, escapes from his ship in search of something more...rating may change :3
1. Chapter 1

He sighed heavily.

It had been a long time since he had felt freedom.

He shifted the dirty pack over his shoulder, filled with the dirty meager supplies he had left from the long journey north.

He felt there was no place for him now.

His blue eyes scanned the scenery, the lush underbrush filling the floor under a canvas of leaves and vines overhead. Greenery was everywhere, green was everywhere.

He licked his lips; they were dry and cracked.

Slowly, he marched on, in search of the gypsy Tia Dalma who his fellows had told him could help him. _Find her up the river,_ they had said. _Find her up the river, north up the stream…_

_Splush_.

He looked down, and saw that his foot was immersed in mud. He grimly smiled. _Finally it seems I've made progress_, he thought as he carried on.

Someone looking overhead would have been baffled by the man's appearance. The body was covered, similar to a mosaic, in scallops and coral pieces one would find deep beneath the sea, particularly a large chunk on his left shoulder; his hands resembled claws similar to the legs of a lobster; small crab legs sprouted from behind his arms and back; atop everything was attached to his head a hammerhead-shark's top, as if the man were wearing a long, blue hat with eyes on the ends. The man did not seem to belong among the shrubbery, deep within the forest, but rather deep below the sea, among Davy Jones' crew… and it was so. The man was Maccus, Davy's head henchman. Yet now the man traveled along, as he had done for the past week, a weary travel, a long travel, a journey that seemed would never end.

He looked ahead, and he saw dim lights within a misty fog that cleared above the shallow stream. Maccus gave a slight smile and took a few more steps, knee-deep in the water. He could tell the lights came from a high cabin, which rested above in the trees, and which needed a ladder to get to from the stream.

_Nearly there…Almost…_

Maccus felt he would soon collapse, and would have done so if he had not seen people surrounding the building, holding dim candles in their hands as they cried. What they were sorrowing, Maccus did not know. And who the owners of the small boat tied to the ladder were, he did not know either. Sure that he did not want to find out, nor be noticed by the people and again made a fool of, Maccus staggered to a bush on his right, near a thin, gangly tree. He rested against it, and again licked his lips; they were still dry. Peering around the tree, he noticed a couple persons descending the ladder, stocking the raft. _Obviously going somehere, but to where?..._ He breathed in deeply, torn between his curiosity and prediction of the persons' future reaction should he venture out of the foliage. Suddenly a voice cried out. Maccus turned his head.

_Whap!_

The last thing he saw was a frightened woman with a shovel in her hand before he tumbled into darkness and collapsed into the stream.

--

Will Turner stood outside Dalma's cabin, and on the high-raised wooden ground he was on sat a small monkey, staring out into the depths of the forest along with him. Will peered down at this monkey, and smiled faintly when it looked to him. The animal tugged on Will's pant leg, and then got onto its all-fours and crept away. Suddenly that feeling of loneliness Will had been feeling the past week, used in preparation to retrieve _Captain Jack Sparrow_ back from the dead, again pained him. Will grasped at his chest; _A symbolic movement,_ he realized shortly afterward, as his father's dagger laid directly above his aching heart. At the moment Will felt the need to follow Davy Jones' heart-gutting action and tear out his own. When he had seen Elizabeth kissing Sparrow…_I don't know what to think anymore_, he thought. _She…and I are to be wed…and she's kissing another man…_

"Ya look lost, lad," interrupted Gibb's raspy voice. Will turned around to face him, leaning back with his elbows on the railing. The man he saw seemed cheerier than as of late.

"I'm fine—you bring news?" Will asked, regarding their departure.

Gibb gave a firm nod and added with a grin, "We're apt to leave soon, lad, hold yer slacks up."

Will nodded and looked away, disappointed and silent.

"I'm," Gibb began, "getting' the feelin' you 're upset."

"I don't exactly want to talk about it."

Gibb shrugged. "Don't worry, I know—"

"—What?" Will looked up to Gibb and studied him; _Had he known, or seen them at it too?_

"Yeah, lad, I'm embarrassed t' admit it…"—Will listened intently—"but I'm sad too, I wish we could all just fly there, like the birds, and get back Jack right now, have 'im 'ere wit' us. –Am I right?"

Will paused, unsure of whether he was glad or bothered by Gibb's own reconciliation. He shrugged. "…Sure."

"Now lemme see yur smile, now," Gibb said, smiling as he lightly slapped Will's shoulder. After a few moments, he added seriously, "Now, lad, smile, we'll see Jack soon…"

"That's what I'm worried about," Will mumbled to himself. When he realized he had said this aloud, and that Gibb seemed to have heard him, Will added hurriedly, "—That I'm worried we won't leave soon enough."

"Ahh," Gibb smiled and pat Will's shoulder; Will gave a fake smile back, trying his best not to say anything more than he thought he should. Gibb added, "That's the smile I was 'ere talkin' about…" He paused, and then rested his hands on his belt. "Well, now…I'm 'bout t' 'ead back inside, an' see if there's anymore I can do t' speed this 'ere trip up…" With a wave, Gibb turned and disappeared through the beaded curtains and vines hanging down from the tree above.

Will's eyes turned upwards, and he gazed up into the night sky above, again alone with his troubled thoughts…

"—Will?" Elizabeth's soft, sweet voice asked hesitantly, and smiled wearily when he looked to her. She remained by the doorway, a hand holding a few strands of beads and vine. "…Are you all right? Ever since Jack's been gone, it seems—"

"I'm _fine_," Will said, looking away, "perfectly, absolutely _fine_."

There was a paused between them, and Will looked back to Elizabeth, who had tears in her eyes. He felt first a twitch of glory, but then was immersed in a sudden guilt, that he shouldn't be upset over her preference, that whatever she wanted to make her happy and that it made her happy was most important… her eyes changed everything, her face, her smile… Will was about to say her name when her brows furrowed slightly.

"Will…please, I…there's something you need to know—"

She was cut off by a woman's shriek and a subsequent loud sound. Elizabeth and Will stared perplexed at one another, and immediately ran into Tia Dalma's front guest room. From there, they saw everyone huddled outside near the ladder and by the door, so they both went there too. They gently pushed through the crowd of fellow pirates to the front, where the people still stood silently in the shallow stream with dim candles in their hands. A woman with a shovel came wadding forward excitedly, shrieking in a language they themselves did not understand. All of the pirates looked to Dalma, who stood at the ledge over the people below. She turned back around to the rest of the pirates by her door.

"The woman says there was a frightful man, who has looks shark-like, and carryin' a knapsack—"

"Maybe it's someone from Davy Jones' crew, come to get us!" wailed Ragetti. He bent over and wrapped his arms around Pintel in fear, until Pintel gave him a funny look; Ragetti release Pintel and gave something of a smile.

Will paused, reeling back in time… "Did she say if he had barnacles, all over his body, and a shark's head as one with his own?" he asked Dalma. She translated to the hysterical woman in the water, who pointed behind her.

"Yes!" The hysterical woman nodded excitedly. "—'E is back there, I 'it 'im wit' this shovel, that is 'im!" she shrieked in accented English.

Will nodded, and said, "I've seen this man before, he was apart of Davy's crew—"

"—Then what's he doin' here?" asked Pintel. Ragetti nodded ardently, eager for an answer that would ease him.

Will shook his head. "I…I'm not sure why—but I've seen him"—he looked to Dalma—"I'm sure of it."

"You 'aven't seen 'im yet," she said, smiling. "Let's all go 'ave a look see…"

Hurriedly everyone descended the ladder as the people in the water began to follow the woman with the shovel. Will, impatient, jumped down from the ledge into the water and wadded on, again lost in his thoughts concerning his father and his possible eternal fate…

"Will? Will!" his fiancé called. He didn't say anything, or look back. Elizabeth stared on at him quizzically, wondering why he hadn't waited for her, or at least helped her down—

"I'll help ya, puppet," said Pintel readily, grinning in unison with Ragetti. Elizabeth looked at them, bewildered, and she shook her head as she slid down the ladder and landed with a small splash. She hurried on, desperately trying to catch up with Will; there was something on his mind, she could obviously tell that. Pintel and Ragetti had been watching her, and Pintel turned to his friend with a questioning look.

Ragetti grinned. "It's all confusin', they're jus' gettin' use' to bein' wit' each other too much—"

"—Already?" Pintel asked, skeptical that the "honeymoon-phase" was over so soon; he wasn't aware of when it had actually started.

Ragetti nodded reassuringly. "Already."

Will noticed that the front of the moving bunch of people had stopped moving; _There already_, he thought, and he hurried to get to the former crewman, hopeful to get some news about _Bootstrap Bill_, his father Turner. He went to the woman near the brush, who was pointing to the base of the tree and scowling at it, though a fear shined in her eyes. Will's own eyes followed hers, and he saw someone unmistakably from Davy Jones' crew, now with an unmistakably painful bruise from an acquaintance with the woman's shovel.

Will drew his sword, and pointed the edge at the man's neck. "Tell me," he commanded coolly, "who you are, and what your business is here." Elizabeth had caught up, and she joined his side; she took Will's other hand in her own as she stared down too.

The man gave no response.

"_Tell me or else!_" Will yelled at him angrily, his sword's side nearing the man's neck threateningly. He felt a squeeze on his other hand. Will's eyes shot to it, trailed up an arm and saw Elizabeth's face, a woman who was obviously frightened by the man's appearance, yet strong enough to conceal most of her fear.

"Will, maybe he's just…"

"He's not dead."

"I wasn't going to say that, I meant…temporarily passed out. He'll come to sooner or later, and you'll have your answers then."

Will frowned, and was about to respond when the man at the base of the tree awoke with a start, and was about to move forward before he felt the cool of the blade against his neck. The man remained where he was, however uncomfortable the position was. _Very uncomfortable._ He carried no weapon on him, and now regretted this deeply. He looked up to the owner of the sword, whose face seemed so familiar, yet he could not place it…

"Ah! The boy who challenged Davy himself!" the man recalled. His sudden words made everyone jump, except Will, who kept his blade steady with his gaze.

"I see you remember me."

"And you me?" the man asked.

Will shook his head. "I never got around to meeting every man in the crew, yet I did see you occasionally. –Tell me, how is my father?"

"…I wouldn't know. I've been traveling for the last week—"

"For which of Davy's errands? To take back the key or to steal more souls?" Will asked accusingly.

The man shook his head. "No. Nothing as such."

"Then what?" Will asked, narrowing his gaze. "—And tell me, tell all of us, who you are, and what your business is, or—"

The man lurched to the side and vomited, as the rest of his body gave and erupted in tremors. He grasped his throat, and wheezed. "Water," he gasped as he reached out, "let me—"

"No!" Will kept his sword steady, keeping the man's head away from the stream. He watched the man, who was in obvious pain as he continued wheezing and vomiting. Will's hand felt a light squeeze again.

"Will—" she started, trying to push his sword away.

"No—"

"_Will_—"

"—Don't tell me what to do, I wasn't the one mouth-to-mouth with Sparrow!" he yelled. He paused, and looked to Elizabeth, who broke into tears and ran away. Will grunted and ran after her, knowing he had said too much.

The man, realizing the sword had left him, immediately immersed his head into the cool stream and guzzled as the rest of his body soon followed suit into the stream. He realized he had been stupid to travel by land, when all he needed was this, just this…_and her_… He felt someone tap his foot, and reluctantly his head rose up out of the water—

Again to meet the shovel.

Again darkness.

--END PART ONE--

Me: Heylow, everybody! Mmkay, so I'll tell you what's up: I wrote this right after I saw the second movie because I fell in love with all of the characters, yayses, but anyway I want you to know that, though I'm not sure why...maybe because that's the kind of person I am, installing chapters and such after extended periods of time, uh-oh... :) Anywho, can't wait till MAY 25TH!!!!!!!!!


	2. Chapter 2

_The Flying Dutchman continued through the ravaging storm, as waves heaved themselves against the sides and rose and landed with a crash on the deck. Terrible winds blew the rising water around, re-soaking everything. The sky was dark and cloudy. Screaming. Fall of the mast…_

Maccus' torso bolted upright from his sleep, and his head hit a wooden pillar in front of him. He paused to see where he was. He growled when he realized he was tied to a pole in…he wasn't sure where, but the room's contents were what bothered him—eyeballs in cases strung from the ceiling, poor lighting, a snake wrapped around a post by the door… He grinned lightly, glad he wasn't tied to _that_ particular post… Maccus noticed something move by the doorframe; Will emerged from the cover of the shadows.

"I know you see me," Will said, "and that you're awake. –Now tell me any news of my father, or I'll—"

"Bootstrap? He's under for eternity, if you remember why."

Will sauntered over to Maccus, and bent down so he and Davy's crewmember were at eye-level. Will glared. "That wasn't supposed to happen."

"But it did." Maccus shrugged, and stared down at this bound hands. The rope was too thick to gnaw through, and much too short to get his mouth to it anyway; his head would hit the pole first. His legs were spread around the sides of the pole, so Maccus rested his elbows on his thighs. Maccus glanced at Will. "Untie me. I haven't done anything."

Will stood; at this time Maccus realized Will was holding something. Will smirked. "—Ah, you've noticed you've lost your sack"—the pirate glared up at Will as he held it above his head—"and realized you're tied to a pole, so you can't do anything about it. Hm, I wonder what I'll find inside—"

"_Don't you touch it!_" Maccus yelled. He swept his leg across the floor to knock Will off his feet, but Will stepped on the barnacled leg before it could do any damage.

"Tsk. And here I was trying to negotiate."

"Pretty new at it, I imagine." Maccus grit his teeth as Will pressed the heel of his boot into his shin. "I haven't done anything, untie me!"

Will gave no reply, and instead turned around to another couple visitors. Elizabeth and Dalma walked in, with Cotton's parrot on her shoulder. Will removed his foot and lowered the pirate's bag to his side, concealing it from view.

"Will," Dalma began with a smile, "that's no way t' treat a visita."

"I take it you think he deserves better?" Will asked accusingly.

"I take it you were the one to tie me," Maccus said from the floor. Will looked at him momentarily, glowering, and then looked back to Dalma.

Elizabeth sighed. "We could at least show _some_ hospitality, Will, he hasn't done anything."

"I agree," Maccus said, grinning.

"Stay out of this," Will commanded Maccus, and then said as he turned to Elizabeth, "Hospitality is the last thing this monster deserves."

"I wasn't the one to have my father whip me," Maccus said.

Will whipped around and punched Maccus in the face. "I said _stay out of this!"_

"Will!" Elizabeth exclaimed, terrified. She gasped when he glared at her, and she looked down at her feet. Dalma glanced from Elizabeth to Will, and back and forth again.

"Will Turna, give th' pirate 'is sack," Dalma said. She watched him reluctantly drop the bag to Maccus's lap, and then she walked over to him slowly. She stopped inches from him. "Turna, you got anga that'll rot you wild, don' let it botha you, tha past 's tha past."

Will looked up and nodded halfheartedly, looking away shortly afterwards. Dalma sighed.

Marty ran into the room, and everyone looked to him. He stopped with a foot forward, and said, "The ship's ready to launch now."

"The ship?" Maccus asked from the floor.

Marty peered around the three in front of him to Maccus, and Marty jumped back a little when he saw the added shark and barnacles bits that adorned the pirate's body. Marty nodded. "Aye, th' ship. We're on t' save Jack Sparrow, Captain of the downed Black Pearl."

Maccus nodded with a cruel smile. "Aye, I know 'im, ev'ryone on the Flyin' Dutch knows such Jack…"

Barbarossa immerged from the door behind Marty. "What's the hold up, now, we're on t—" He paused mid-sentence when his eyes fell on Maccus. The others peered back and forth between them, obvious that there was a past connection between the two of them.

"Cap'n?" Marty asked wearily.

"…Aye…" Barbarossa looked away. "Hurry, now, the gate'll only be op'n for another week, we've got to keep on tight sched'le…"

The rest chirped an agreement and headed in single-file out the door. Before Will left, however, he gave a warning glare to Maccus.

"You're coming with us, and you will tell us everything we want to know."

"You mean," Maccus said, grinning, "everything _you_ want to know."

Before Will could respond, Elizabeth exasperatedly grasped his arm and urged him on behind her, and they disappeared through the door.

Maccus looked down at the sack in his lap, and smiled as he rose his hands to open it, he needed to see it so badly—

"Maccus."

He looked up at his name, over to Captain Barbarossa by the door. He had a rope and towel in his hands.

Maccus growled. "What is it?…"

"…I'm the one to bring you"—Maccus gave a nod, and Barborossa smiled. "Good. I didn't want any problems." The Captain went over to Maccus and bent down. He cut the strings that connected the pirate to the pillar. Maccus immediately whipped his bound hands toward Barbarossa' face, but his attempt failed as they were caught in mid-air. "Tsk, I thought you agreed to come quietly…" Suddenly Barbarossa thrust his knife into Maccus' gut, and Maccus yelled out in pain. Subsequently, the Captain pulled Maccus' arms up over his head and forced them down behind his head.

"_Stop!—"_

"Still weaker, slower than Captains—another part to the curse, to ensure no mutiny against Davy Jones. Hmm. Works for me," Barbarossa said. Maccus looked away. "Now, then, _this_ time you will come with none a my effort put to waste _or _use."

Barbarossa cut the strings around Maccus' wrists and quickly bound them behind Maccus' back, and pulled him up to his feet. Before the towel was wrapped around Maccus' mouth, Barbarossa paused, and asked quietly, "You didn't bring _it_ with ya, did you?"

Maccus remained silent and glaring. "I'm not in that much trouble."

"Aye, I wouldn't think Davy would send the Kraken after one of his own," Barbarossa said. He tied the gag around Maccus's mouth, with enough towel left over to stuff in the mouth. Before they began walking, Barbarossa turned to Maccus. "I still haven't forgiven you. Your life will be hell on my ship."

Maccus mumbled something in reply, but it remained inaudible thanks to the gag. Barbarossa gave a hearty chuckle and pulled Maccus along behind him. They headed out the door, and stared in awe of Dalma's ship, which she had offered to "lend" them for the journey. Its construction was marvelous; it was sleek and dark brown. The _Merry Go Legacy._ Barbarossa chuckled and fixed his Captain's hat.

"Yes, your life will be hell on my ship…"

--END PART 2—

Me: Oooh, thanks for the reviews! So nice... :) Hey, though, I did forget the disclaimer: I (sadly) don't have anything to do with POC I, II, and III... but, I figure that you'd have figured that if I did have some connection to Disney/Pirates, then well you know :)


	3. Chapter 3

Me: Okies, sorry for the long break, finals is this week EEK... and, right after the last one, my fam and I are going to DISNEYLAND! Sweets! Anywho, I'm leaving you alls two more "installments" to tie you over for a while... :) Enjoy! Okay, warning, this one's short and the next is really long, but anyway... :):)

--ONE WEEK AND A HALF PRIOR—

Davy Jones, captain of the Flying Dutchman, continued furiously hammering his organ's keys, unsatisfied with everything. His crew was too scared of him to function properly, and because of _that_, everything had been going downhill. There were only two options: one, he could leave it be, since Jack had his heart and would be _really _gone in two weeks, or two, Davy would have to go save him from the Judges, a process that usually took two weeks…

He struck another cord and let it hang in the air, the notes reverberating and humming in the cool, damp atmosphere around him. Suddenly Davy heard a shout from above, and he let the keys go as he turned around. In a matter of seconds he was up the stairs and on deck.

Davy immediately looked for Maccus and found his crony in the heat of a squabble—over what, Davy was uncertain. He shoved his way into the thick of the crowd, and in the middle lay Maccus pinning Clacker down to the floorboards, screaming in Clacker's face.

"—_You're _wrong, _take it _back!!" Maccus cried and raised his fist threateningly.

Clacker spat in his face. Maccus fumed and let out an enraged cry—but before his fist could do further damage, Davy wrapped his elongated fingers in a tight hold around his crony's hand. Maccus and the rest look up to him, partly shocked at his sudden appearance, and partly stricken with fear.

Davy puffed out some air lightly as his other hand pulled out the pipe from his mouth. "Now, Maccus"—he paused as he twisted Maccus' hand backwards—"that's no way to treat a fellow crewman." Maccus grunted as Davy turned and twisted his hand, until there was a definitive _snap_ and his hand fell limp to his side. Maccus stared down as his broken, somewhat shriveled hand silently.

"The rest 'o ya! Back to work!" Davy shouted to the others, and the crew humbly obliged. Davy peered back down to Maccus; undoubtedly this one was his favorite, he had a strange like to Maccus—he was attentitive, obligatory, submissive, obeying…one couldn't ask for a better crony. Davy almost stared affectionately as he would a son, but he covered it up with a slap alongside Maccus' head.

"_Ow!—"_

"What were you thinkin', Maccus, you loony," Davy said, shaking his head as he watched Maccus' hand twist back and fix itself. "I even had to resort to _that_—which, cause 'o the curse, won't ever do you any harm. Permanently."

Maccus nodded and chuckled lightly. "Ayuh…" He cleared his throat.

"Don't tell me you won't tell me."

"I haven't said anything yet."

"Indeed." Davy's eyes smiled, and Maccus looked away bothered.

"…I lost again."

Davy nodded slowly, and he re-adjusted his pipe. "I suspected as much." He sucked on it. _Either it's my luck or his lack thereof that he continually loses those damn dice games…_ "So what is it now?"

"…Fifty-seven."

Davy nodded with a puff from his favorite pipe. "Yuss, that is indeed more than thirteen."

"And I was so _close_—well, I guess, there's more to gamble now." Maccus grinned lightly and stood up, brushing himself off. He paused. "You know, there's no reason to dust oneself off anymore, when we're submerged so much, but…it's a habit. I, I can't say I really miss being human, or that I regret being apart of your crew. But, there 're thoughts I can't ignore…"

Maccus stared down to his feet, obviously embarrassed. Davy noticed Maccus—and the others—seemed to lack something as of late. They needed something, but he wasn't sure what…

"…And," Maccus continued, looking up, "I wonder…do you regret…?"

"Ah." That answered his question. Yes, Davy knew what his crony meant. The captain touched the part on his torso where his heart once resided, where his pacemaker once lay… "You mean a woman, that's it? Never mind them—get back to work!"

Maccus nodded and reluctantly turned around, though he left with a small smile; why not another fifty-seven years of service? It was his life, he needed nothing more, so he thought…

Davy drew another breath from his pipe, and he stared on to the rest of his crew. Yes, that one there lacked that spunk he had when he left his wife, and that one, yes, he had lost that shine with the mention of his late fiancé…_There needs to be change._ Davy nodded, and he looked onwards, out to the sea. _I'll find a way…no, my child will find a way…_

Davy chuckled with grim delight and he mused alongside his pipe.

----END PART 3----


	4. Chapter 4

--(Current)

Will stood at the front-most head of the ship, with his leg bent up on the stem bowsprit and one hand clasped to a rope above his head; the other arm remained bent off his leg. As he leaned over, surveying the sea, he couldn't control his thoughts as they went back to that day, that bloody day, yet that glorious day…

_She was kissing him passionately, gorgeous eyes closed as he gently replied with his own lips and tongue—_

Yet he couldn't decide; was it Elizabeth with her arms around Sparrow, or the other way around? Or not at all?—

_Their bodies contorting with every thrust, wonderful, glorious pain and passion overtaking both of their bodies—_

Will shook his head, wanting to deny the current image in his head; had those two ever committed anything more than a simple kiss, or was there more than he saw? There had to have been, it couldn't have just been that one time, there had to have been more behind the scenes, more love and more physical exchanges—right? No?

He wanted to scream.

He wanted to cry.

And at the same time, we was wondering what the hell he was doing trying to save the damn _Captain Jack Sparrow_.

His brow twisted in agony as he remembered, not so long ago, what Elizabeth had said to him as she was captive in that cell: "_If it weren't for these bars, I would have you already"…_Had she ever said that to Sparrow? To any other man? To any other _men_?

Will bolted upright at the sound of a shrill scream—_Elizabeth?—_

Will darted to the captain's quarters, legs pumping seemingly not fast enough. He skidded to a halt and flung open the door—where, inside, he saw the entire crew on the floor, laughing, with cards in hand.

"What are you doing?" Will demanded, half relieved yet still half terrified. His petrified eyes darted around the room as his heart rate went back to normal; _Whatever normal _was_ anymore_…

Liz stared up at him apologetically, her lips curled into a beautiful smile with the hint of laughter waiting to escape from within. "Will, what do you think we're doing?"

"I-, _you_ screamed, I thought someone was hurt, that maybe there was an ambush or the like, so- you, I--…" he trailed off, not really sure _what _he had been thinking or doing. He watched Liz gracefully stand up and near him. She placed her hands around his face, temptingly close; _You still care about me…_ As their lips were about to touch, Will shook his head and removed her hands with his own. Liz's face was a mix of shock and hurt, her eyes pleading—_Will…_ "Where's the Davy man?" he addressed to the rest of them. He, however, hadn't realized they had all been watching them. They were all silent, their minds more on the matter before them than on the addressed question.

Barbarrossa cleared his throat from a table in the darkened corner of the room. He removed his boots from an adjacent table and stopped slicing his fruit with a knife as he looked up and over to Will. "He's up on deck, driving this 'ere ship."

Suddenly Will felt the life drain out of him; "_What?_"

"Aye," Gibbs said with a grin from the floor. "Our 'ere cap'n got 'is ropes right, if ya get what I mean…"

But before anyone could elaborate on the matter, Will had bolted out of the room, leaving the doors swinging behind him.

An abandoned Elizabeth heaved a sigh as she looked down solemnly to her hands, wondering what was wrong with them, what was wrong with _her._ Will couldn't have _possibly_ seen her and Sparrow kissing, because he had been on the lifeboat with Martey and so… Or, had someone told him? Elizabeth shook her head. It was impossible for Will to have seen her saving them with a distracting kiss. But even so, shouldn't he have forgiven her already? So… Had she done something else? Or had he lost interest, or had he only been trying to push her away because he was scared?

Defeated, she sat down and picked up her cards. She put on an encouraging smile to everyone else.

"Now that I lost that round, I won't lose again! --C'mon, let's do it!"

--

Up on deck, Maccus stood alone, his hands on the helm and the mast behind him. He inhaled the cool, crisp night air. His lungs screamed at him, what was he doing without water?, but this self-inflicted pain excited him, it was so new to him, feeling almost normal again… He frowned, thinking of his life back on that ship, torn between what he wanted and what he knew could not have—or did he have a choice on the matter? Could he be the ruler of his own life?

He looked out onto the distant sea, dark and black from the shroud of the night. _Yes, this was all I needed, but_, now_, there's a different story… _He inhaled again, but this time, his lungs took it out on him. Immediately Maccus erupted into a hacking fit, his throat dry, his innards on fire… He almost released the helm, but he held on anyway—he knew he couldn't, shouldn't let go. His body, however, thought differently. Usually he and the crew could stand out of water for more than a day, but now Maccus realized he had been away from water for too long, that week was far too long…

He tried to stop, keep his throat clenched. Maccus felt his eyes tear up as he withheld his threatening coughs.

But sometimes man cannot contain himself.

Maccus coughed a little, trying to release the huge tension that had built up in his throat—but abruptly his entire body released itself, all of the pain shot out in every cough. His body's abrupt reaction heaved him forward, and he slammed his head on the mast; Maccus stumbled back, having dropped hold of the helm, and he bent over, his arms around his middle as his body erupted in tremors and a cold sweat.

--

Will burst out from the captain's quarters and sped out to the railing. He twisted around, and saw no one at the helm. He grinned and frowned at the same time. _That loon will pay now--_

Will ran up the stairs, but he stopped short when he saw Maccus bent over on the floor, coughing and shaking—_Again,_ he realized, _and before…_

"Maccus," he said, "I give you permission to get water."

Given no reply except for a few louder hacks, Will tried again: "You're allowed to leave post! --Leave post, damn it!" Will growled, frustrated, and went to Maccus. He swept his arm under the captive's and heaved him up to his feet. Though the weight was a bit much for him, Will slowly staggered with Maccus on his shoulder towards the edge of the higher deck—until he felt a tug on Maccus' part. Will peered behind him and noticed a chain link around the mast that led to Maccus' ankle. He heaved a sigh and leaned the crony against the railings before he darted away.

His legs lead him around the sides of the ship. _A pail, a cup—something! Where?!_ Will's thoughts ran as quickly as he did, until he entered the kitchen. _…There!_ He found a well-sized tub and a few smaller pails belong side it. He picked all of them up and went back to the higher deck.

He left the large tub and ran back to the side of the ship with the pails in his arms. He dipped the containers into the sea and fished them out. As he ran back up, a cool trickle of water ran down his side; he distributed the contents into the large tub and went back for more.

After several trips, Will stopped on top of the stairs, panting, with his hands on his knees. His eyes darted over to Maccus, who at this time was limp with beads of sweat dripping down his pained face. _What?_

Will went to Maccus' side and heaved him up into the tub; sea water splashed over the edges, and he watched as barnacles on Maccus' body opened and breathed in, relishing the gift—but Maccus remained still. Will rolled up his sleeves, and he cupped water in his hand and spread it over Maccus' face and head, repetitively, until he got a response.

Maccus opened his eyes; they darted to Will. The two remained still, until Maccus realized where he was, what he was in, and he raised a wet hand up from the tub. He stared at it before asking, "Why?" He added with a small grin, "I had the inclination you wanted to kill me."

"No, I wouldn't let you off that easy without telling me a few things first."

"Ah. That's right…" Maccus nodded to himself. He closed his eyes as he submerged his torso and head under the water. He remained there for a while.

"Maccus, you shouldn't have let go of the mast."

Will paused at the silence between them. He wondered if the almost-dead knew about things that he didn't, about what the living did, about the other lives around the world…?

Maccus suddenly sat up and exclaimed something slight of a groan of pleasure. He looked over to Will as he pulled his own legs into the tub. "…So. What do you want to know?"

---ONE WEEK AND SOME PRIOR—

"_Heave_, you mongrels! Put your backs into it!" Davy yelled, watching as the majority of his crew groaned while they pushed with all their strength, slowly yet surely succeeding in small circles. The lever was almost secure to send its signal, when one of the crew slipped and fell from his hold of the giant pillar. Subsequently there was a pause in movement as the formation was lost, the momentum lost, and Davy watched as the pillar nearly unwound its entire self. He erupted in rage and screamed, "_HEAVE_!"

The crew obliged and continued on working. The head of the pillar raised, and then a following—_boom—_echoed as it fell inward, sending a deep surge of waves to the sea floor below.

Davy, however, wasn't focused on the message. He was busy glaring at the fallen member of his crew.

The captain strode over to the pillar and stared down menacingly; it was the newest member aboard, the one he had invited only so recently, yet it seemed as an eternity with him making a mistake so often. The crew member trembled as he raised his head, his eyes to Davy's—and just as quickly looked away. Davy shook his head and grinned as he lowered himself onto his haunches.

Staring down at this member, Davy rested one hand on him and had the other hold the pipe in his mouth. He pulled it out. "So, Daniel, Danny boy," he rolled the words sweetly, sickeningly over his tongue, "how 'bout a flogging competition?"

A raised roar of approval from the other bothered crew members followed suit, and everyone hurried to the low deck. They huddle in a random circle as Daniel was stripped of his top and bound to a rope hanging from above deck.

Davy looked around his crew appraisingly. He raised his arms, one of which held the envied whip, and called, "Who wants to start?"

His eyes darted around, until he saw Palifico step forward, coral hands clenched; he had been one to trip on the fallen Daniel, and Davy knew this. The captain grinned sourly as he walked past Palifico and handed him the whip.

"Just don't mangle him," were his last words as he disappeared underneath deck, back to his own quarters, his organ.

Palifico nodded and turned back to Daniel, who at this time was shaking terribly. Already twenty-some lines were visible along his back, all jagged and different shades of dried scars; he was still plenty human. Palifico growled and he unwound the whip. He held it ready in his hand, paused, and then released his fury out through the string of the whip, a full wave of hatred and anger surging through it, echoing off the screaming man's back…

Maccus was above deck, only partly entertained by this spectacle. He couldn't help think about the Kraken call—what was that about? Where would they follow it to? …What was his captain planning?

----END PART 4----

Me: hope to be back soon! Ooh, and thanks for the reviews, again, so pretty... ;)


	5. Chapter 5

--ONE WEEK AND SOME PRIOR--

Maccus slowly descended the stairs leading to his master's room. Immediately a chilly, damp breeze struck him, welcoming him again as it had so many times before. He continued down, until he reached the floor of the room. His blue eyes searched the room.

Davy sat at his organ's bench, waiting. He turned around.

"I was waiting for you to show up," he said, grinning at how well he knew his crony now. A near-deafening howl reverberated through the ceiling, and Davy tsk'ed. "He needs ta learn from you."

"Captain?"

Davy paused before continuing. "I know that's not why you are here, but would you be so kind as to…show him the ropes for me?" Davy grinned and shook his head as he turned back around to his organ. "I swear, it would have been better not to have chosen him, sometimes…" His elongated fingers traced the outlines of cords he knew too well.

"—Sir, why call the Kraken?" Maccus asked, somewhat hesitant to question his superior; Davy glanced over his shoulder. "What is it that you can't trust us to accomplish on our own? What is your plan, captain?" Regardless of the possibility of being too forward, he added a little hesitantly, "Why hadn't you discussed this aforehand?"

Davy shook his head, inside smiling. "Yer inquiry is quite th' intriguing one. You think I should discuss everything with you? Everything?"

"Capt'n, forgive and forget my insolence, swear I've meant it not."

He chuckled inside. "What's more, this is a _surprise_—"

"Of what sort?"

"Oh," Davy grinned, "the best sort."

--(Current)—

"I would like to know…" Will paused, contemplating; what if this pirate only gave him one question? "How much you will let me know."

Maccus chuckled lightly, careful of his throat, seeing as it had deceived him before. "Just ask away, until I feel satisfied with what I've had to say."

"Hm. Then…how's that Davy treating my father?"

"Well, see, now I've already answered that one—but I'll say it again anyway. I've been traveling for the past week, so I'm unsure of that period that I've been away."

Will cocked a brow. "Why have you been traveling?"

"I thought you wanted to know about your father, not me."

"I thought you would tell me something interesting; you haven't yet."

Maccus nodded and smiled. "Well…your father hasn't been treated any worse than before, which wasn't bad. Mostly he works the riggings, and sometimes some grimy work, the cleaning of the sleeping quarters, for starters. –For my part of the story…" he trailed off, wondering, considering what he should and shouldn't be let known. He shrugged. "I've been searching for something that I found by chance."

"And that?"

Maccus grinned, staring out onto the sea. "I should get back to post," he said as he stood up in the tub. He walked, and almost stumbled but picked himself up, to the steering wheel of the ship and took hold; he checked the coordinates by the stars overhead, and then by the compass lying along the helm's side to the left, and he turned the helm a few notches.

Will stood up and went to the top of the stairs, staring out on the wide, open sea with Maccus. He sighed, realizing he hadn't really learned that much, and also realizing that he probably wouldn't ever.

"Means," Maccus said.

Will looked over to him. "Pardon?"

The helmsman remained still, his eyes focused on something that his mind was not. "A means to get to Sparrow. He has something that I want."

----END PART FIVE----

Me: EEEE!! I missed you all so much! ...Well, updating, really, but everyone reading this is pretty cool, too :) Um, okay, I kniw this is short, esp. after such a looooong break :) but on Thursday I'll try to remember to post a loooooong chapter to keep y'all occupied while I'm away again...Anywhos, thanks so much for the awesome reviews!!!


	6. Chapter 6

Cutler Beckett stood outside his study, standing near the railing as he stared off into the sea. His hands rested on the wooden side railing, but he removed one as he turned around at the intrusion of the shuffling of feet into his outside tranquility.

It was James Norrington.

"Greetings, Admiral," Beckett said with an amused grin, "and to what do I owe this occasion? Have you finished what I assigned?"

James only stared back. As an answer, he gave a silent nod.

"Oh, Admiral, you seem so quiet."

"That," James muttered through clenched teeth, "is due to the lack of complacency as I have yet to receive from your end of the bargain—"

"Tut." Beckett waved his hand. "Do not forget your place, Admiral. And do not fret, I have not forgotten you and your requests."

Unexpectedly, a tremendous –_boom_- from a firing cannon in the distance then ricocheted off the stone walls to the men's sides. Beckett issued a devious grin before he turned back to the distance, his eyes searching for the rising smoke of the sounded cannon; his eyes found one, and he chuckled somewhat.

"Admiral," Beckett started, though keeping his attention to the sea, "have you ever contemplated the end of life? The inevitability that all mortal men must face?"

"Death?"

"Indeed, you are a smart one."

James ignored the comment. "To answer the question, no, I have not cared to consider death in my plans. You?"

Beckett remained silent for some time, and a second cannon was fired from behind them, as a response to the first fire. "Admiral, what would you be willing to offer to live forever?"

"Honestly?" James was growing weary with all the questions; often his presence was often dismissed. He paused for a moment, and then murmured, "Nothing. I see no point to an eternity of living. That would imply an eternity of work."

Beckett smiled as he turned to James, who was straight-faced. "Hm. That's one way to put it… Yet, say you had an insatiable thirst for salvation from the inevitable fate. What, then, would you be willing to sacrifice?"

_Elizabeth…_ "Anything. Everything."

"I thought as much," Beckett said as he turned around. He watched the passing squad of soldiers in red coats, and he grinned to himself. "Indeed, _everything_ is quite an answer, but is it enough? Would you be willing to give more?"

"What more is there to give, Sir?"

"…You should get back to post. And do not forget to pick up the small present I left on my desk for you. If not an eternity of work, then a lifetime should suffice, should it not?" Beckett paused, and added, "Besides, it's only seventeen objectives. That should use your time positively."

James muttered something under his breath before he bowed and turned around to leave.

"And, Admiral, I should like to inquire as to what it is you just murmured to yourself, then, as well."

"…Nothing. I said you didn't answer the question."

Beckett nodded, and he raised his right hand as a signal for Norrington to leave. Beckett waited for the shuffling of footsteps to signal the Admiral's absence before he nodded again. "Yes, indeed. What more is there to give?" The Lord paused only momentarily before addressing to himself, "Indeed…That is what you are on a quest to find out."

----END PART SEVEN----

Me:) - HELLO EVERYONE! Hehehe, I told you I'm so very bad at updating--but I never DID specify WHICH Thursday I'd update, hm? ;) Anywho, another short chapter, but short and sweet is always nice, isn't it?


	7. Chapter 7

Me: ducks and covers I'm so sorry! It's been so long gasp I can't believe it... But, hey, there's a HUGE chapter coming up; I'm just still editing it is all... ; Thanks so much for the patience and the comments; it's a fun story to write... X) Anywho, enough's enough, so enjoy...

--ONE WEEK AND SOME PRIOR--

Maccus found himself in the grimy, dimly lit bowels of the ship. The miniature prison cells were empty concerning men, but the air reeked of sweat, salt, and blood—he felt the gills along the sides of his neck twitch excitedly—as his eyes surveyed the cells individually, certain one from them all had a willing prisoner…

His eyes fell upon the second from the back, the cell bars of which had elongated fingers entwined around them. Maccus frowned slightly as he neared the cell; to his dismay, he found the quarry of his search resting with his forehead against the prison bars, hiccupping every so often as an after result from a serious bout of sobbing. Davy's crony growled in dismay; _men aren't weak, they shouldn't cry_.

"Daniel," Maccus' voice boomed, almost echoing in the damp, nearly-vacant room; the prisoner's head jumped back with a start, and wide eyes pleaded at Maccus; "The Captain says—"

"_I didn't do it!_" the man whined, his face contorting as he envisioned the new sorts of pain to be endured, as result of whatever trick the others were playing on him now; he messed up enough without their help. "_Tell him for me, you're closest, he'll listen! I—_"

"—Need to learn to hold your tongue," Maccus finished, his face impassive. Daniel fell quiet, and stared at his knees that rested between the crevices in the bars; his eyes welded with tears as his body shook. Maccus watched, in an almost sort of morbid fascination, as the man removed one of his hands from its grasp on a bar, and placed two fingers between his teeth. The echoing _crunch_ on the man's part disturbed the crony only slightly, as he had remembered himself, those troubling times, when he had begun his transformations into …what he had become…

Maccus resisted the urge to glance down to his own hands, and instead bent down onto his haunches so that he was at a sort of eye-level with the man, if that is what he should like to call himself. He heard himself mutter Daniel's name once more. Daniel shuddered, but looked up regardless of his blatant fear. Maccus' deep blue eyes met the stark brownness of the man's own, and he wondered slightly whether this man saw things differently, due to the variation in their eye color—perhaps?

"Daniel, th' name's Maccus, and," Maccus sighed deeply, "Davy's assigned me t' show you your bearings on this ship. I suppose you know what it's called?" Maccus cocked a brow, curious at the notion that the man didn't even know where he was. He received a hurried nod, however, and the man squeaked the ship's name. "Aye, the _Flying Dutchman_, that's our ship. You have a hundred years here, might as well work t' make them somevat comfortable."

Daniel looked up curiously, then shook his head. "Yes, somewhat comfortable at least…"—his eyes locked with Maccus's--"and you'll help me? You'll help me accomplish that?"

Maccus glanced away; he wasn't too sure what he would do, since guarding this man from harming himself as he usually did was near impossible—but he could try. Maccus nodded. The man nearly squealed, and did a sign of the cross. The pirate stared at the prison-mate precariously, considered the 't' Daniel had made over hisself, and shrugged as he stood up and ambled off.

Maccus heard his name from behind him, and paused momentarily, glancing over his shoulder and watching silently as the man tweaked open the cell bars and slid through a crack in the door; immediately he was standing to Maccus's right, a clear head and a half shorter than the crony. Daniel gave a sort of sheepish smile.

"So you'll help me then, is that it?" the man asked, his eyes wide, obviously wondering if this was some kind of cruel trick—the small bit of time he had been here on this ship had been nothing short of painful, and it was clearly amazing to him that someone would offer a hand in his aid… "This isn't fantasy?"

Maccus frowned momentarily at the man, studied him shortly, and turned his head as he marched up the steps, with the man at his heels.

Maccus wasn't sure how to answer the man; what if all this, his current life, his current state of being, was just a dream, and he was instead still sleeping at home, his comfortable home in… somewhere…still alive there, and just unconscious? Maccus shook his head at the ridiculous notion; _surely not. Surely not_.

"You—you didn't ans—"

"I c'n only help you help y'rself," Maccus replied sharply, staring at the man pointedly before leaving him standing on the steps to the lower deck. Daniel remained still, preoccupied with his thoughts. He heaved a small sigh, and nodded to himself assuredly as he hurried himself after Maccus, hoping furiously to God that this was not some sick joke. That whip was far too hideous on his shoulder, he could at least say that much…

--

The Captain of the _Flying Dutchman_ sat, hunched, on a large organ bench, though he leaned forward in a direction opposite of the instrument, so that his back was to the keys. His mind relayed the thoughts and ideas he had presented to himself to combat the issue of a certain lacking element in his crew's functions. Certainly everything would go to plan—

He chuckled to himself at this ludicrous thought. No. Nothing ever went according to plan. Therein lay the fun of the whole thing. He stood up a little straighter, and pulled the pipe out from his mouth for a moment as he narrowed his eyes on the door, across the bench he was seated at. He had never realized how vulnerable a position he was constantly in, with his back to the door, though the door was far as it may be…

Davy shook his head and stood up, before striding across the room and up the stairs, and over to the railings. He took another flight of stairs, nodding at his crewmen every now and then, until he was standing beside Maccus at the helm. Davy had caught the figure of Daniel scrubbing the floor, and the Captain could not help but chuckle to himself; how often had he assigned such a meaningless task to his new subordinates—the barnacles could never come off! Yet, should the man actually _succeed_…another was bourne in the previous' spot, along with several more. Yes, such a meaningless task; Davy chuckled—and yet Daniel was working furiously, obviously set on succeeding in his assigned mission.

The Captian shook his head as he took his pipe out from his mouth, and glanced over at his crony; Maccus's eyes shifted so that he saw Davy from the corner of his eye, and the pirate nodded.

"Captain."

Davy nodded, and placed the pipe back into his mouth as he surveyed the sea ahead. He wondered, for a moment, why was it he primarily kept above the water's surface, now, when he usually kept himself and his crew beneath the sea? He ignored such a trivial question, and concerned himself to focus on more important matters, ones that were not as minute as the previous…

But would the plan fail miserably, from the beginning, if they should not find a source, as the source of his desired element—or elements—was the crux of all of it?

No matter. His child would deliver soon enough.


End file.
